


Winter Of Fire

by writings_andstuff



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Winterfell, end season 6, eventual love, jonsa, slowburn, takes place after season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writings_andstuff/pseuds/writings_andstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Winter arrived.</p><p>Her father had always told her stories of brave and handsome knights who saved damsels.<br/>But she didn't need anyone to tell her stories of brave knights anymore, they didn't mean anything to her now.   She knew life now. And death.</p><p>And eventually she would know love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Game of Thrones fic, so I hope it's alright.

"Winter is here." She said, a small smile on her lips.

"Father always promised didn't he." He answered. 

And for the first time since the battle she saw him smile. It was a hopeful smile. Recalling the carefree days of their childhood.  
She felt both joy and pain at seeing him smile like that.  
Because even though it gave her a little reassurance and made her forget the past days full of stress and turmoil, it also made her think of her father.  
Of their father.  
The kind man who had been at her side when nightmares haunted her sleep. Softly whispering stories of brave and handsome knights who saved damsels.

But that man was gone, dead. 

Still she saw some pieces of him in Jon. And not just in looks. He was a silent but strong man. Serious and honourable, caring, like their father.  
But she didn't need anyone to tell her stories of brave knights anymore, they didn't mean anything to her now. Those stories didn't give her the comfort they once did.  
Still her dreams were haunted with nightmares, now more than ever. And when she woke she always felt so alone that she could barely stand it.  
It was in moments like that that she missed her father most. When she was all alone she could finally let go of the emotions buried deep inside her. The ones she didn't want anyone else to see, afraid they'd call her weak. And that was not how she wanted people to see her.

Since she arrived at Castle Black she and Jon were nearly inseparable. They were always near each other, afraid that they would lose one other if they as much as left their eyes off them. They grabbed the others hand or touched eachothers shoulder or arm often, making sure it wasn't a dream and they really were there.

At the wall they had shared a room, both for safety reasons, Jon didn't trust the other men anymore, and because there weren't many private rooms to begin with.  
The first night Sansa dreamt of Ramsay coming for her, slowly killing her brother in front of her. She had screamed so loud she had woken Jon. When he tried to wake her she had fought against his touch, pleading him, Ramsay, to stop. When Jon finally got her out of her dream she cried, she cried and her whole body shook of fear. But Jon just held her against him, saying over and over that it was a dream, that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her anymore. And she had felt save in that moment.  
Not truly, but more than she had felt in the past years. She felt safe in his strong arms and with the knowledge he would protect her. She felt so save that she told him about some things that had happened to her, losing the strong facade she had going, but she didn't care anymore. It was Jon, and he was her brother, he cared for her, truly cared for her, without ever asking anything in return. So she told him, she told him about the marriages, the beatings, the lies and cruelty. And all the death. And Jon had just listened, he hadn't said anything but she could feel the anger boiling inside of him.  
She felt his strong touch soften, afraid that his tight hold on her pained her. 

When she was done he just whispered:  
"I will do anything to stop that from ever happening to you again, I promise." 

Since that night they slept next to eachother, and they both slept better knowing they were close. But since they had retaken Winterfell they couldn't share a room anymore, it would be improper and they had enough rooms. Sansa felt sad at that, she hoped Jon would too but she knew if people would find out there would be whispers.  
So she had faced her nightmares on her own again.

 

Jon left after their smiles fades. And she could feel the loneliness that plagued her start to creep in. But she didn't let it. 

She went inside the castle and went on with what she was doing earlier, and the day before, getting all the Bolton stuff out of her family's rooms and remodelling them to how they once were.  
It helped her.  
It gave her the sense that she could make the castle that held so many memories, both pleased and unpleasant, home again. 

She threw everything that held the Bolton sigil or that she was sure of that it didn't belong to her sibling in a pile in the hallway. She would burn it all later, watching the flames eat away at the skinned men on the cross. Destroying the last few things of the Bolton existence.  
And she couldn't deny it, it felt good, getting her home back. 

She had now done Aryas, Brans, Rickons and even Theons room and she stood in the room that once belonged to her elder brother. The one they called King and then was cruelly murdered. She could still hear the sneers and jokes Joffrey made about him. She tried not to think of it as she focused all the anger that filled her on tearing away the possessions that were not of her brother.  
She pushed the bed back where it originally stood, just like the small table and the closet. She took unfamiliar books of the shelves. She even searched the desk for papers that didn't belong there. It weren't many papers that were not of Robb. Just a few. Apparently the person or persons that had stayed in this room didn't care for writing or documenting things. But Robb was. She found a big pile papers and letters. Most of which he had received years ago, when everything was still peaceful. She found letters of far relatives and old friends.  
It felt a bit strange to read Robbs letters without his approval. But he couldn't give it anymore. And even though she knew it wasn't exactly proper to read through her dead brothers personal writings, she felt as if she had a piece of him with her as she read his words. As if a part of him was still alive in these papers. She didn't read all of them, partly because there were to many and she wanted to save some for later.  
But she noticed under in the pile of old parchment a more recent made, small stack, of parchment. It was in between letters Robb must have wrote when he was very little. Words written wrongly and letters uneven and big. But the small pile was from when he was much older, letters neat and well written.  
She looked at what the papers said and her breath stocked in her throat, unwilling to leave her. 

It was Robbs will.  
He must have wrote it before he left Winterfell.  
On first page were the usual stuff, name, date and reason why he wrote this will. The second page was more financial. It also included some other things like who would get his sword and other possessions of him, his sword would go to Jon, and his bow to Bran, 'for practice' he had written by it. Sansa had to stifle a small laugh at that, knowing her little brothers archery skills.  
She read that she would have got all his books on tales and history, as well as a few of his jewellery. She smiled at that. 

It wasn't until she read the next page that the smile turned into a shocked and confused expression. She didn't know how to understand what the words told. She read it over and over and over again. Convincing herself that it really was written there. She checked the handwriting and paper making sure it was part of the rest of the will.  
It was.  
Her mind was racing with thoughts. Was it true? Did these words really held any kind of truth? How would she inform Jon about this?  
She just promised to not keep things from him and now she discovered this. She knew he had the right to know this. And she wanted to show him, truly, but she hoped that this wasn't false information that misleaded her brother. That it wouldn't give them false ideas and above all, that this didn't ruin the fragile relationship they had build together. Just when they began to get used to each other, to have a family again, she couldn't afford to miss him.  
She didn't know if she could ever afford to miss him.

But it really stood there on paper, signed by her eldest brother. 

Jon Snow was not Jon Snow,  
not even Jon Stark. 

Jon was Jon Targaryen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the kudos and comments! I really didn't expect so many people to read this, let alone like this!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter too, it was really hard to write. Especially because English isn't my first language, so if you see any errors/typos/mistakes let me know!

She promised him that they wouldn't keep things from eachother.   
That they would trust one other. 

In her mind she debated as to when to show him Robbs will. But after a long discussion with her conscious she decided that the sooner the better. She had promised him something after all, and to break that promise the same day she made it would make it even more wrong. And there was always the chance that it wasn't true, that she worried over nothing.  
So she took the will and walked through the castle looking for her brother. If he actually was her brother. But she didn't want to think that way. She would still love him, brother or not.  
She found Jon in the great hall, he looked to be discussing something with ser Davos. Sansa knew Davos was a good and kind man, but she had yet to warm up to him. Her mind was still telling her she didn't knew enough of him to trust him. Trust was something rare for her.  
Jon looked up when she entered the room.   
"Can I talk to you about something?" She asked. Jon nodded and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak.  
She laid her eyes on Davos for a moment before asking: "In private?"

Davos looked up from his boots and excused himself, bowing at the pair. Sansa waited with speaking until the doors closed behind him.   
A mix of emotions tightened around her chest, like a too small corset. Thoughts were racing through her mind. She took a deep breath.

"I found something." She started. 

She looked away from Jon's gaze. She couldn't find the courage to continue when he looked at her like that. His soft eyes, unknown to what she was about to tell. She could only think of how those eyes would change when he knew what she knew now. Even if it wasn't even certain if it held any truth.   
Would he still care for her as much as he did now? They grew up together but she had always been unkind to him. Before she came to Castle Black they never even had a bond. She was always busy trying to be a lady, and ladies never wanted to have anything to do with bastards. She had scolded him, even calling him bastard instead of his name sometimes. He had forgiven her for it, but that didn't mean he would like to be around her now. I'm Would he really stay her with her when it was true that they were no family? Would he still care for her?  
She shook the thoughts away, knowing she wouldn't be able to continue if she kept thinking like that.  
After taking another deep breath she started at the beginning, still not looking at him.

"I was cleaning the rooms, putting things back and all like I was doing yesterday, and I was doing Robbs room. I found something there. In his bureau."  
She dared to look up and she saw exactly what she was afraid of.   
"In a big stack of papers I found his will." Her fingers were fidgeting with the laces that hung from her sleeve.   
"In his will is something you should know."   
She gave the papers to him then, unable to continue on. He must read it himself she thought. That would be better.  
She watched as his eyes scanned through the words. When he got to the third page she held her breath, the tension making her feel nauseous.  
Jon read the words. And let out a deep breath. He looked up at her, but there was little surprise in his eyes, nor shock or confusion.  
"What is it?" She asked.   
Did he know already? Did he think this was just a joke? Or something made up? Why wasn't he surprised like she was?  
"When I died," he began. Looking as if he just started to solve a difficult riddle. "I saw things, I didn't understand them then, but I think I maybe do now. I saw things that happened years ago, but also things that are going to happen I think. I saw the deaths of the Starks, I saw the dragon queen riding her dragon, I saw the capital burning and I saw white walkers marching. I saw the Winterfell of our youth. And I saw my birth." He stopped there for a second, thinking of how to go on. Sansa watched him with a look of utter confusion.   
"In the vision my mother wasn't some tavern girl. But I was born in the south. In the Tower of Joy." Sansa gasped softly at that knowing what he was gonna say. "My mother was Lyanna Stark, and my father was Rheagar Targaryen. When your father found her she was dying. She made him promise to keep me safe, to not tell Robert Baratheon about me, for he would kill any child with Targaryen blood." He looked down, also confused now. "I don't know if this is some strange coincidence, or if it's really true but I guess we'll never truly know." Sansa was opened her mouth to say something in protest but was cut off by Jon. "I don't want to know."

She was beyond confused now. Why after all these years wouldn't he want to know?

"I am tired, Sansa."   
He was, she could see the exhaustion on his face and even more in his eyes. His eyes suddenly seemed like they were a hundred years old. And she could feel it too, somehow. 

"I am tired of wanting to know who my mother was. I've wanted to know since the moment I knew what it meant to be a bastard. But nobody can tell me for sure anymore, so I have given up. The visions I've seen could have been just dreams or visions that the Red Woman has put in my head to make her story seem true. I don't know. We don't know. But I'll rather be a bastard of the North like I've been all my life than suddenly be someone from a dead family of the South." He leaned with both his hands on the table. And he looked at her, pleading her with his eyes to understand.

And she did. She understood him. But she didn't agree with him. Not when there was this much evidence that couldn't be ignored.   
"I understand your doubt Jon. And I understand your reluctance. But we can't just ignore all this, especially if you have seen those visions." She wasn't done talking but he was already shaking his head. "There is still one person we could ask, who was at the Tower of Joy." she said, hoping it would change his mind.   
Jon looked at her and signed. "Do as you please, I don't care anymore." And he walked away.

Lie. He heard the voice in his head say. Liar.  
Oh, how he wished he didn't care. How he wished it wouldn't matter at all. But it did. And he cared.   
And he hated it.  
When he was little he wished he wasn't a bastard. But as he grew older he knew it couldn't be changed. So he took Tyrion Lannisters words to heart. He could still hear the small mans voice say the words: 'Never forget what you are. The world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.'  
And so he did, it took some time but he did. He wasn't bitter about being a bastard anymore, and it didn't matter to him any longer. Until now. Now there suddenly is a chance he could be a high born, still somewhat a bastard but with more names than first. And he would be a Targaryen. The family that was a rival of the Starks, long before the Lannisters were. The North wouldn't be his home anymore. The King Of The North would suddenly be anything but northern. The people wouldn't care that he grew up in the North and had been a knight of the Night's Watch. They would only see his blood family. And even though his mother would be a Stark, it wouldn't be enough.   
The people should have chosen Sansa he thought. She was as northern as it gets and she would be a good ruler. But the people had chosen him. And now he regretted not protesting or declining the title. Oh how stupid he was to think this would go well. They may have won the battle but they sure had more to battles to come. And this one is one of the first of many. But those battles would be different, but bloody and painful nonetheless.

Sansa was taken aback by Jon's reaction. It has hurt to see him like that, so desperate for peace in his mind. She didn't know what exactly happened to him at and beyond the Wall. She only knew a few things and could only imagine the rest. But he had suffered and that she knew for sure. He had changed. This man was a lot different than the Jon that she knew from before. And she knew it wasn't just his age or death, even though that also changed some things inside him. His eyes were darker and his positive mind was slowly fading. He used to dream of being a Knight of the Night's Watch. But he had seen the harsh reality of it. And his dreams had been crushed.   
It sounded a lot like her story. She dreamed of marrying the Prince and becoming Queen, but the Prince was cruel and her dream had officially turned into a nightmare when the sword was brought at her fathers neck. And she could do nothing but watch and scream. And since then she had changed too. Adapting to situations so she could keep surviving. She had played the role of being Jofferey's and Cersei's plaything. She had played the role of Alayne Stone perfectly for Littlefinger. She had played the good wife and let Ramsay do whatever he wanted to do to her. And she survived.  
But she didn't want that for Jon. To keep changing names and titles and roles. And she did what she could do to help him. She promised herself to find out who his parents were, so he would finally know who he truly was.   
And so she wrote the letter to her only hope in solving this matter.

That night, Sansa couldn't find sleep. Her thoughts kept her awake.   
Jon didn't come down for dinner. He went to his chambers after he left the great hall, and hadn't come out since. And even though his chambers were down the hall from her, she hadn't found the courage to knock on the door and ask how he was. It would be a stupid thing to ask anyway.   
She tried to sleep, and when she finally felt her eyes tire, she heard it.  
A loud scream followed by a crashing sound of something breaking. Her feet were already on the floor when the screaming stopped. She ran to the door door and opened it with such a force it bounced back loudly when it hit the wall. But she didn't care, she ran down the hall and to the chamber she knew the sound had come from. She opened the door without knocking, and saw him standing there.  
He looked lost. He looked lost and alone and afraid, standing there in the middle of the room. At the corner she noticed something that once was a chair, but now was just a pile of broken wood. She slowly stepped into his room. And he turned his face up to her. And she saw his cheeks that were stained with tears, and his eyes were red. Pain was radianting off of him. And it hurt, looking at his hurt.  
She wanted nothing more than to go to him and hold him close. To tell him it was all alright and to take away this pain that seemed to follow him like a ghost everywhere he went.   
But she didn't. Instead she whispered his name. His eyes closed for a second. And he looked so vulnerable then. He took a small step to her then, and she couldn't help it anymore. Within three steps she was with him. Wrapping her arms around his middle. When he laid his head on her shoulder, she moved her hand to the back of his head, her fingers running through his black curls. And after a few seconds his arms wrapped around her too, holding her closer to him. She could feel his hands clutching her nightgown. Tears were falling down her face too, she noticed.   
"It's alright," she whispered, "it's alright".   
Her fingers were running through his hair, and she felt his tears on her shoulder, sinking through the thin fabric of her nightgown.   
She didn't know how long they had stood there, but it seemed both forever as it did seconds. 

Their silence, and her heart, was broken by the words spoken next:  
"Who am I Sansa?" His voice was broken and hoarse. When she spoke her voice was determined, but brittle.  
"You are Jon. No matter your second name. You're Jon. You are the boy I grew up with. You're the boy that went to join the Nights Watch. You're the man that came back and helped me take our home back. You're the man The North wants as their King. You're Jon. You're my Jon, you're Arya's Jon, you're Bran's Jon. You are you no matter the blood of your parents. And I will love you no matter what. Just as Arya and Bran will. Know that." She felt his hold tightening around her. "I don't care if you're Snow, Stark or Targaryen. I will not stop caring for you."   
Tears were falling freely from her face now. And she could feel his body shaking with emotions. Slowly he let his grip on her loosen. She let her arms fall at her sides. He raised his head from her shoulder and looked at her. His face close to hers. And she could see some light in his eyes that lately haven't been anything but darkness. His lips moved in a slight smile as he breathed: "Thank you."  
His face was now a mix of sadness and gratitude. And she felt a weight lift from her shoulders that she hadn't know it's existence of.  
"You don't have to thank me, Jon. It's the truth."

That night she stayed in his room. It didn't feel right to leave him after that, and she didn't want him to feel alone anymore. And by doing so, she herself didn't feel alone anymore too.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days had passed since Sansa send the letter. So when she got the news of a raven she was eager to read the message. The scroll of paper was covered with creases and by the sight of it it been through rain. She was just about to break the seal to open the scroll when a thought stopped her hands from doing so. Shouldn't Jon be the one to open it?   
He had been very quit the last few days, even more than usual. The day after she showed him Robbs will he had been in the courtyard all day, practising.  
If that's what you could call it.   
When she saw him it 'practicing' that day it was as if he was waging a war with the practice dummy's. He looked so furious as he was sliced his sword through the dummy's, she was scared of what was going through his mind. Was he imagining them as people? And which people? Or was he just trying to let out all of his anger and frustration from yesterday's news?   
But what shocked her even more was that the fury he showed looked so natural. Not in a way that it fitted the Jon she knew, but he looked familiar with the emotions. As if it was a cloak he wore, it fitted him and wrapped itself around him, holding him in its grip. And she realised that this must how he had looked in the battle of Winterfell. How he had looked when he fought beyond the Wall.   
This whole side of him was new to her and also not. She had seen his fury when he had beaten Ramsay. She had seen that he could barely stop himself from killing him. He only stopped when he saw her, watching him beating Ramsay's face bloody. He had said to her later that he knew then that it wasn't him who should end Ramsay's life. That that right belonged to someone else. She told him in return that she had let his own hounds eat him alive. And that he had been so sure that he would still survive, until the first hound had attacked him. Then he had just screamed until he couldn't anymore.  
She didn't tell Jon that she had smiled when she walked away from Ramsay's screams.

She hadn't seen Jon since breakfast this morning. She decided to go look for him, to inform him about the received letter and to ask if he wanted to read it first. She looked in the courtyard and in the stables, in the great hall and in his chambers, but he wasn't there. She had asked several people if they had seen him until one said that he had seen him go to the crypts.   
A dark feeling crawled inside her chest then, as she hurried towards the place. She went down the stairs, entering the darkness of the underground halls. Quickly she took a torch from one of the walls and continued her search, already knowing where he would be. 

When she found him he was looking towards the statue, barely acknowledging her presence. It wasn't until she stood next to him, also facing the statue, that he spoke.  
"Father never told much about her, hmh."   
He still calls him father, was the first thing she thought. He must not believe it then.   
"No, he never would. Even when Arya begged him to, she wanted to know about her because everyone called her a warrior." She answered.  
"Also because they all say she looks so much like her." She continued.  
Jon nodded.  
"She does."   
There hung a silence in the crypts. Only the sound of their breaths broke it.  
"So this girl could be my mother." He signed.  
"Could be, yes." She said, handing him the letter.  
"I just revived this letter, it's from Howland Reed. The only one still alive who was at the Tower of Joy with father. I wrote to him, after I showed you Robbs will, asking for his answers."   
He looked at her questionably.  
"I haven't read it yet," she assured him. "I thought you should be the first of you want to."  
His eyebrows were knitted together. And he signed, taking the letter from her. He broke the seal and looked her in the eye, and she saw fear etched onto his face.   
He opened the scroll and started reading its content out loud.  
"To Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.  
I write this to you in answer to your last letter. I will ride to Winterfell and shall arrive within a fortnight. Then, me and my men will pledge our loyal allegiance to you and The King in the North. Then I will tell you what I know.

Howland Reed, Lord of House Reed and Frog Island."

Jon bit his lip. There were still no answers, but they would come soon.  
He didn't know if he was relieved or anxious. Maybe both. 

Sansa looked up at him expectedly, asking for his reaction.   
He just said what he was thinking: "I'll guess I'll have to wait, then."

She nodded.

He looked down let out a deep sigh. He stepped forward to move passed her but she grabbed his elbow. Slowly he turned around to look at her. 

"I guess we'll have to wait then." She said, emphasising the word 'we'. Her eyes were burning, but he couldn't tell with what. Was it anger? Or maybe irritation with his stupidity of not including her, or maybe it was even determination? He didn't know. But it made her look powerful. And he thought it suited her.

He nodded to her in agreement, regretting his words that said she had no part in it. After all, she's the one who discovered it and went on to investigate it further.

She, in return, gave him a small, rather peaceful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry.  
> Somehow I got into some kind of writersblock and it didnt let me write anything that was good enough to post so I hope this is.


End file.
